Hands in the Dirt
by snapsforsnape
Summary: Severus goes through a regular ordeal. Who are we to judge the suffering he feels and deny the help he so desperately needs?


A/N: Wow! 2 story updates and a brand new story all in the span of several days- say it ain't so! I am a hopeless multitasker and needed to get this story out there. Most of my one-shots are written in a half hour or so. This one was just that. I have a particular reason for writing this which I will explain at the end of the story. Don't read my explanation before you read the piece though!

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My hands shook violently and I clenched my fists willing them to stop. Students look at me with curios expressions but I dismissed them all with my steady gaze straight ahead. With any luck no one would notice my distress and leave me to my quarters.

SLAM!

The door behind me swung shut and I rushed over to the dresser. My feet were simply not in sync with m thoughts and I stumbled, reaching out for where I thought was solid wood. Alas, the dresser evaded my touch and I was only able to grasp the corner before my legs buckled uselessly beneath me. With arms shaking from the effort I heaved myself upward and stared into the mirror. What looked back at me a a pale figure, a shadow of mysef. Instead of the usual pale, my complexion was a deathly shade of white that magnified the sickly black circles below my eyes. Not even my eyes could focused on the gastly image before me. I felt as if I was having an outerbody experience. The face though mine, seemed disconnected with everything. I felt lightheaded, but the pressure building up inside my skull distracted me from even the largest of things. My eyes blinked slowly trying to rid themselves of the blurry vision I was currently experiencing. It was useless I knew, for I had tried this solution many times before, however I couldn't help but retain a flicker of hope.

In one dizzying lurch I fell my knees on the carpeted floor. My head remained low trying to get back some semblance of control. I prized composure above all things and the fact that it eluded me now frustrated me to no end. The mental strength and endurance I had a year ago was now a thing of the past; I hadn't had a normal month in Merlin knows how long. The black spots creeping their way into my view brought me sharply back to reality. Everything closed in and my limbs grew numb in anticipation of the worst of it all. I slumped against the base of the bed, sweat running down my brow despite the frigid air. My palms were clammy and damp against my forehead as I swept the locks of hair from my eyes. An all encompassing heat forced me to tear at the buttons of my frock coat, desperately trying to free my neck from the tight confines. My hands shook too much to even get a grasp on the buttons and my usual deft fingers slid off the buttons surface due to my sweating. The black dots now obscured my vision completely accompanied by a a build up of the pressure in my head. In a rare display of weakness I whimpered. My whimper excalated into a groan before I resorted to cradling my head in my trembling hands. Finally the loathed dots receded and the dizziness abated. A throbbing headache was left in return, but it was vastly preferable to what I had just went through.

Placing one hand on my knee I rose shakily to my feet and sat down upon the soft comforter of the bed. My quivering hands, though not quite still, were improving.

_This needs to end_ I though to myself. For months I've endured these unending occurrences. At first I debated on whether to approach the Headmaster or not before finally giving in after I collapsed mid class. He turned me away though, writing it off as nothing more than stress. It had been awhile before I brought up the subject up again to him. I was a fool to think anything had changed. Once more he cast the act aside and I resorted to plan B, Madame Promfrey. Sure she asked a few questions, promised to help, but never actually followed through.

It has been 7 months now since that talk with Poppy and I am still as weak as before. Each month I cope with this occurrence several times. Whether it be while teaching a class or brewing a particularly rigorous potion. I turn to no one now that all my avenues of help have shunned me. Others don't understand that though my pride may prevent me from seeking assistance, I yearn for it. Until I have to courage to once more ask my mentor to lend me a hand, I will withstand the anguish; forever a shadow of my former self.

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A/N Ahhh so it is done! Well, this was written out of personal experience. To keep things short, I've been needing a way to write down that way I've been feeling. The exact thing that happened to Severus happens to me and I felt it needed to get out there. And what a better way than to filter it through Snape eh? Some things I left out for lack of me finding the proper words to descibe them, but I feel it is a pretty accurate interpretation. Let me know your thoughts and keep in mind this was written in a half -hour while emotionally fueled! WHo am I kidding, that's no excuse. If the story is crap, by all means please be honest! REVIEW POR FAVOR : D


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